Love's Sweet Charity
by Commander
Summary: Bubbles, in an attempt to toughen up, is spending her afternoons at the Townsville prison. But she finds that, perhaps, the villains need softening more than she needs toughening. Mojo/Bubbles MoBubs
1. one

Bubbles had flown out of school yet again. In tears.

She had been standing in the lunch line, her tray half-full. It was vegetable soup that day, one of Bubbles' favorites. The only thing that could make that better was diced pears… and guess what the fruit of the day was? Smiling her customary happy smile, Bubbles held out her tray for the lunch lady to dispense said pears…

…when two boys behind her, playfully joking with each other, suddenly fell into her. With a clatter and a splash, Bubbles was suddenly drenched in her soup, her tray dropped to the floor. Behind her in line, a couple of kids started to giggle.

Bubbles' lips quivered for just a second before she tore out of the cafeteria, sobbing.

"_Bubbles!" _a sympathetic yet harsh voice shouted after her. It was Blossom. In that good sisterly way of hers, she understood Bubbles' mortification, and yet running out of the room wasn't going to score good points with the teachers on duty.

Or running out of the building and flying to the roof, still crying from embarrassment.

She was embarrassed that she had been laughed at, that her clothes were ruined, that she made it so that the janitors had a big mess to clean up, but she was more embarrassed that she was crying about it. But her embarrassment at her crying made her cry even more. A never-ending cycle.

It would have been embarrassing enough if she was in elementary school, but no.

Bubbles was seventeen years old.

O.o.O

She stayed up there the whole day.

She couldn't go home. The Professor was there and would have made her go back to school. And she couldn't show her face back in school that day. So she just sat on the roof, sheltered from sight from anyone standing on the ground, sniffling away tears only to begin crying again.

But finally, the final bell rang and she could hear people leaving school. Bubbles stretched out her leg, about to stand up in preparation to come home, but stopped when she heard two familiar voices float up to her ears.

"Are you serious? She wasn't in any of your classes?"

"Why are you so surprised, Blossom? You know the way she acts. Every little mortification makes her run away from school and bawl for about five hours straight."

"She can't keep doing this, Buttercup." Blossom sounded more disappointed than mad, which almost started Bubbles' tears again. "She can't keep running away from every little thing that upsets her. She needs to grow up."

"I'm worried about her," said Buttercup, sounding unusually concerned. "Someday someone's really going to hurt her, and she'll just collapse. She can't even handle getting food on her clothes. She has that trusting, optimistic nature, and some day someone's going to take advantage of that and really _hurt _her!"

"Break her heart, you mean," said Blossom.

"I didn't want to say it, but yes! You know how she is always getting all googly-eyed and thinking about the perfect boyfriend she's going to fall in love with some day. Some creep's going to take advantage of her. She always assumes the best in everyone."

"And then he'll give her a reality check, and it'll _kill _her," sighed Blossom. "You know, it's a darn good thing she hasn't started dating yet—well, that's because she's still like a twelve-year-old, shy around boys—"

"We can't protect her forever."

"We? What do you mean, _we?"_

"You and the Professor—and I'll admit, me too—keep trying to shelter Bubbles from the rest of the world!"

"Of course! We just said it—even the slightest mishap completely crushes her!"

"But we can't keep this up! She's not a child anymore, Blossom."

"…You're right, Buttercup."

Bubbles winced at the way Blossom had sighed those words out.

She heard her sisters fly off, but instead of joining them, she merely pressed her hands against her ears, not wanting to hear any more of their conversation. But she knew they were right. She _did _act like a twelve-year-old—and that was on her best days! Blossom and Buttercup seemed to think that Bubbles didn't know what she was like—but she did!

Can you still be completely innocent if you _realize _that you're innocent? Can you be innocent if you know the meaning of the word "innocent"?

Bubbles pulled her knees to her chest tightly. It wasn't like she liked who she was! She hated how she cried at everything, how people would treat her like a child! She knew she had to change…

"But I don't know how," she whispered.

Could anyone know how, she wondered? Did anyone ever say, "I need to grow up," then do so? Even if she could, she didn't know exactly what it would take to make her "grow up". To make her just as mature as Blossom and Buttercup.

Well. Maybe _they _knew.

Wiping away her tears with determination, Bubbles stood up and flew off the roof of the school, following her sisters home.

O.o.O

Bubbles could hardly stand to look at Blossom, Buttercup, and the Professor, at the way they sighed and shook their heads at her, at how disappointed they were with her.

"Your actions were very irresponsible," Blossom finally said, in her most authoritative voice.

"I know," whispered Bubbles.

"If you know, then why do you keep doing things like this?" Buttercup erupted. "You pull stunts like this all the time! I mean, for God's sake, Bubbles, you're not five years old anymore!"

"I know!" Bubbles' voice was louder this time.

"Now, Buttercup, you don't have to get nasty," said the Professor sternly.

"But what else will work with Bubbles?" sighed Blossom. "It seems the only way for you to stop being such a baby is to…" She left her statement unfinished, her eyes sad.

"I don't like who I am," said Bubbles. "I don't like how I cry at everything. And I know you're right. I need to toughen up. But I don't know how. How did you girls get tough? You've been tough for our entire lives, it seems. I think you girls are the only ones who can help me."

Blossom shook her head. "Bubbles, the process of maturing is a different one for each person, a process that she can only find out for herself. What makes one person mature might have no effect on another."

"And you're proof of that," said Buttercup to Bubbles. "I think one of the first things that really changed the way I thought about the world was when we found out that Mojo was just using us. And when I found out Ace was just using me too, then that cemented it."

"But… but like Blossom said, what Mojo did didn't affect me." Bubbles looked at Blossom. "What do you think changed _you _from a kid to an adult?"

Blossom jerked back a bit. "Uh, well, it was…" she stammered nervously.

"What?" demanded Bubbles, Buttercup, and the Professor.

"It's not something I would recommend you doing," sighed Blossom, "but it was when I stole those golf clubs and had to do community service. It…" Blossom shuffled her feet in an ashamed manner. "It made me realize that the whole world didn't revolve around me and my reputation."

"That won't work for me either," sighed Bubbles. "I'm not going to commit a crime, even if it would make me mature!"

"And that's not the thing about you that needs changing, either," said Buttercup. "You're not as selfish as Blossom was… and still is."

"Watch it," growled Blossom.

Buttercup ignored Blossom. "What you need is—"

"—to learn that the world isn't always a good place, so much that I get used to it and don't cry whenever anything bad happens!" Bubbles shrieked.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Because I know," she whispered, "I know that there are bad people out there, but I can never see that. I see a good person in everyone. I heard you girls talking after school and you're right. The only way to make me really, really accept the truth is for me to get hurt."

"Bubbles, I don't think you need to go that far," said the Professor, his eyes wide with worry. "There is nothing in the world that requires you to—"

"Professor, this is important to me!" Bubbles interrupted. "I don't want to be this way for the rest of my life!"

"But people change gradually, Bubbles," said the Professor, with a sternness that masked his parental worry. "I don't want to see you get needlessly hurt for something that's bound to happen anyway."

"Professor," said Blossom slowly, "I'm just as adverse to the idea of Bubbles getting hurt as you are, and I agree with you that change usually comes slowly… but if twelve years of crimefighting haven't turned Bubbles into an adult, what will?"

"That's the question," muttered Buttercup. "What will change her? Maybe nothing will. Why bother, then? I mean, Bubbles is the joy and the laughter. Maybe that's just who she's supposed to be and nothing can change that."

"There's got to be something," whimpered Bubbles.

"She could…" Blossom began, but then stopped herself.

"What?" demanded Bubbles.

"Bubbles, you said you see the good in everyone, right?" said Blossom.

"Yes," nodded Bubbles in confusion.

"Well… I think you're right, you _do _have to learn to see the bad in people too, and the best place where you can get to know bad people is…" Blossom gulped. "Prison."

"_What?!" _gasped the Professor.

"You've got to be kidding me!" cried Buttercup.

"I'll do it!" Bubbles said quickly.

"Absolutely not!" said the Professor. "I will not allow you to spend your free time in jail!"

"Why not?" asked Blossom, apparently surprising the Professor, for he gave her a look of confusion. "I mean, we beat up villains all the time. We're the ones who put them in jail. So why can't Bubbles spend more time with them? Not only will it help her, but it might help them out too, to see a caring person there."

"But…" The Professor stammered. "Everyone in that prison will have feelings of animosity towards you!"

"They always do," shrugged Bubbles. "I'm used to it. Besides, I'm a Powerpuff Girl. I can handle them."

The Professor stood up from the couch, pacing back and forth. "I don't know, Bubbles, I just have a bad feeling about this…"

"You're supposed to," said Buttercup curtly. "What else will get Bubbles to change?"

"She'll be under the surveillance of the prison guards," Blossom pointed out. "The inmates probably aren't apt to try any funny business under their watch."

"Please, Professor, please let me do this," Bubbles pleaded. "For three hours each day. That's all I ask. I'll go straight after school, and I'll be back home by 6:30. Please let me do this. I… I don't want to be a child anymore."

The Professor turned to Bubbles, intending to say no. No, no, no, there was no way she was going to spend her free time at jail, around Townsville's roughest inhabitants, practically asking any one of them to destroy her. But he saw her pleading eyes, huge and sorrowful, eyes that looked like they belonged on a seven-year-old rather than a seventeen-year-old.

"Alright," he finally sighed.

O.o.O

"I'm just sayin', Bubbles, people listen to ya, and…"

"I understand, but I can't do what you're asking me to do."

"Just put in a good word with the warden! One good word, that's all we're askin'. Please, Bubbles!"

Bubbles smiled apologetically. "Boys, you know I'd love to help you… but you have to commit a crime _before _being arrested."

"Darn technicalities!" cried Bossman of the Amoeba Boys angrily. "Can't you just let us in and _look?"_

"D'ah, jus' let us stand in a cell for five minutes!" Slim threw in.

"Shaddup, I'm the Bossman, I do the… uh… neg… negosurtations!"

"Get a criminal record, and then we'll talk," said Bubbles sweetly before turning and floating to the prison door.

"She's real nice, Boss!" said Junior, gazing at her.

"Shaddup!" snapped Bossman. "She's the enemy, remember?"

Bubbles didn't hear them. Her heart was pounding, seemingly behind her ears, with quick, painful thuds. Although she was floating, she stared up at the door, feeling her insides churn, thinking, _The Professor was right, I shouldn't be… No! I need to change! I need this!_

The door opened, and the warden looked at Bubbles. He gave her a kind, although skeptical, smile.

"Hello, Bubbles," he said. "Are you ready for your first day?"

"Yes," said Bubbles firmly.

She and the Professor had talked with the warden about what she had wanted to do. "Just look at it as a community service project," Bubbles had said, trying to win over both the warden and the Professor, who still wasn't feeling too thrilled about Bubbles' decision.

The warden had been more confused than anything else, but he finally relented, saying, "It'll probably do these folks some good to see a bright face like Bubbles' around."

No one had mentioned that it was Bubbles' bright face that had landed most of these felons in jail in the _first _place.

"If you ever feel like you're in any danger at all, get yourself out of here," the warden was saying to Bubbles. They were inside the prison now and making their way down a long, drab hall.

"I won't," said Bubbles resolutely, trying to hide the depression that was already creeping into her voice. It was so… _cheerless _in here! No wonder all the crooks were as sour as they were. The warden was right—they _did _need to see a bright face.

Maybe… maybe she could help them!

Bubbles felt herself light up. Not only would she be changed for the better, but so would _they! _They could show her that the world wasn't all sunshine and daisies, and she could bring some happiness into their lives. Blossom was right—she'd be helping more than just herself by doing this!

The warden unlocked a large, heavy door, but turned to Bubbles before opening it. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Bubbles gulped. That light of inspiration seemed to dim when she realized again just what she was getting into.

"I guess so," she said, trying to sound brave.

"Alright then." He swung the door open.

The reactions were slow at first. None of the inmates were paying much attention when the door was opened, but sure enough, one bank robber who Bubbles remembered beating up a few weeks ago happened to glance their way, stop, and stare in a dumbfounded manner. Eyes followed his own gaze, and soon the entire room was staring.

"Folks, this here is Bubbles Utonium, and she's going to be around here most afternoons, just helping out," said the warden.

"Uh, hi," said Bubbles meekly, waving her hand. "Like he said, my name is Bubbles… but most of you know me, don't you? I'm the reason why most of you are in here."

Fuzzy Lumpkins growled dangerously.

"Well, anyway… like he said, I'm going to be spending most of my afternoons after school here," Bubbles continued, feeling her face grow more and more red and her insides grow more and more unsteady. "It's kind of a community service project."

The Rowdyruff Boys snorted rudely. Mojo Jojo rolled his eyes. The rest of the inmates still looked dumbfounded.

"So… I hope I'll make your stay here more enjoyable!" Bubbles finished. _And I hope at least one of you really hurts me, _she thought sadly to herself. _Emotionally, not physically like you've all already done before…_

The inmates cracked their knuckles aggressively, but did nothing else. The warden was glaring at them, and none were really crazy enough to try to attack a Powerpuff Girls by themselves. So they all just turned away, pretending to forget that Bubbles was there.

Not very well, either. They kept glancing at her when they thought no one was looking.

Bubbles sighed. "Now what?" she whispered to the warden.

"Go talk to someone," he whispered back.

"Who?" asked Bubbles in desperation.

"It doesn't matter, anyone who you feel like talking to!"

Bubbles gulped, quickly scanned the room, and finally, with hesitation, began to approach the Rowdyruff Boys.

"Back off, you bitch," sneered Butch. Bubbles sighed. Those boys sure knew how to hold a grudge.

When the Girls had been nine years old, they had gotten into a huge battle with the Rowdyruff Boys. Although the Boys were only about nine themselves, their powers, like the Girls', had only grown stronger throughout the years. Half the town was demolished before the Girls, nearly unconscious themselves, managed to corner them and trap them under a falling building (falling completely by the Boys' own doing). The Boys weren't killed, but they were knocked out, making what the Girls and the Professor had to do undeniable.

Antidote X.

Bubbles hadn't raised any objections, for she knew just as well as her father and sisters that if they didn't do this now, the Boys would be completely unstoppable in the future. Still, though, she felt sad as the Professor administered it to the Boys, who were still unconscious and had no clue that their powers were being taken from them.

When the Boys awoke and found themselves restrained to gunnery-type beds in the Professor's lab, they tried to break free, but all that happened was that Brick, while struggling in confusion and anger, somehow knocked heads with Boomer, making both boys dizzy. Blossom and Buttercup had laughed. Bubbles hadn't. The boys were evil, true… but everything about them that made them, well, _them, _had been snatched away without their consent.

They were still villains, no doubt about that. They were strong and mean and pushy. But without their superpowers, they no longer posed any real threat to Townsville.

"You guys were a threat to Townsville, and my sisters, father, and I did what we had to," said Bubbles, sounding as if she was reading from a cue card. She and her sisters had given variations of the same speech to them ever since that day eight years ago.

"You took away our _lives," _snapped Brick. "How would you like it if you woke up, tied to some ironing board, and completely unable to fly?"

"I'd hate it," said Bubbles, "but I never—"

"Stuff it!" snapped Brick, glaring at Bubbles. "Thanks to you and your goddamned sisters, we're nothing but freaks!"

"We were freaks before," pointed out Boomer. Brick rolled his eyes and punched Boomer in the gut.

"We were _cool _freaks! We could fly and shoot lasers and beat people up with no trouble at all! Now we're just lame-o gangsters with huge eyes and no fingers and we look like fucking Barbie dolls!"

_Change the subject, change the subject… _Bubbles thought wildly.

"Why are you guys even here?" Bubbles asked. "Shouldn't you be in juvenile prison?"

"Those losers couldn't control us," laughed Butch.

"They don't care about age around here," Brick added. "Hell, Princess Morbucks is in here a lot too, and we all like that."

"Why?" Bubbles asked innocently.

Brick suddenly smirked. Eyebrows flashing, he fixed his gaze at Bubbles' chest.

"Eew!" Bubbles shrieked, flinging her arms over her chest. "You pervs!"

Boomer and Butch were following their brother's lead, and Bubbles nearly shrieked in disgust again. She was wearing a T-shirt and capris, for God's sake! There was nothing to see!

In desperation, her eyes darted to where the warden had been standing, but he was gone. In his place was Mojo Jojo, leaning against the wall. Lighting a cigarette, he gave Bubbles a nasty smirk.

_What HAVE I gotten myself into? I really DON'T know anything! _thought Bubbles, turning red with both embarrassment and rage.

O.o.O

(AN: I really shouldn't be writing this. I have two other multi-chapter stories that I started more than a year ago that are just sitting there, and my inspiration on this story will likely die as quickly as it did for my other stories. But writing it I am. I can't promise that I'll finish this story, or that updates will be at all frequent (it took me two months to write this one chapter, believe it or not). But here it is. I'm throwing it out here just to, well, throw SOMETHING out.

Disclaimer: PPG ain't mine. End of story.

I'm going to try holding off updating this one until I've updated my other two stories, but holding my inspiration hostage like that has been disastrous in the past. So I might update this story two days from now. Hell, who knows? Anyway, I hope I've sparked your interest enough to make you want to continue reading.)


	2. two

Blossom never spent too much time in the bathroom in the morning before school, getting ready. There was very little she needed to do to herself to make her stand out—as if she wanted to. Her eyes were huge and pink, and her hair was a bright orange that had been known to blind innocent onlookers when the light caught it right. Plus, she was a Powerpuff Girl. She got a lot of stares just by being who she was. Why bother to bring about any more than what she already got? When she was in school, she just wanted to be known as a student, nothing more.

She had her hair wrapped in a bun that day. Sighing to herself, she reached for the hairspray and clippies. She really did take pride in her hair, but lately it just tended to be something that distracted others from school. And the last thing she wanted was to snatch away her fellow students' attention from learning… God knew that they needed all the education they could get.

Satisfied with her appearance, she opened the door to the bathroom. Buttercup, still half-asleep, floated in like a zombie.

"Where's Bubbles?" Blossom asked. Bubbles always wanted the bathroom first, and if she didn't beat Blossom to it, she _always _beat Buttercup.

"Mumph," mumbled Buttercup, yanking a brush through her dark, tangled hair.

"No, really, I know I got here before she did—I didn't have to pick out any blonde hairs from the sink." Blossom left Buttercup alone to tug at her sleep-crusted eyes and floated up the stairs to the Girls' room.

"Bubbles?" she asked, knocking at the door.

"C-come in," came her gentle voice.

Blossom slowly opened the door and stared.

Although the girls were sisters and had about the same body shape and size, they rarely shared clothing, due to their differing styles. Which was why seeing Bubbles wearing Buttercup's football jersey, baggy black jeans, and baseball cap shocked Blossom into speechlessness.

"Is there something you wanted?" Bubbles asked, sloppily pushing her hair up underneath the hat.

"Why are you wearing Buttercup's clothes?" Blossom asked.

Bubbles hesitated for a moment. "I, uh… I don't want to look like a girl."

Blossom sighed. "Bubbles, did something happen at the prison yesterday?"

"Nothing _happened," _Bubbles huffed, "they all just… well…"

"They all harped on the fact that you've got breasts, is that it?"

Bubbles flopped down on her bed helplessly. "They all hate me for coming, but they all keep staring at my chest, and… it makes me feel so uncomfortable! The Rowdyruff Boys were making passes at me the entire time I was there—and they were really vulgar about it!"

Blossom put a sympathetic arm around Bubbles' shoulders. "Maybe… maybe you shouldn't go back there today, Bubbles."

"No!" cried Bubbles angrily, glaring at Blossom. "I have to go! I have to change! I'm not scared of boys. If they try anything, I'll beat them up."

Blossom laughed. "It doesn't sound like you need to change at all."

"I can be tough with you, and even Buttercup," Bubbles admitted, "but with all the guys in the prison I just freeze and can't say anything. I don't want to yell at them." Her eyes narrowed. "But if they keep staring at my breasts as if that's the only part of my body that matters, then I might have to!"

"They didn't try anything, though?" asked Blossom with concern.

"No, I haven't been molested, if that's what you're asking," said Bubbles. "And I'm going back there today, whether you like it or not! It was _your _idea, anyway."

"Yes, it was," sighed Blossom. She bit her tongue to keep herself from saying anymore. Her sister's well-being aside, the possibility that she may have made a mistake settled poorly in her stomach, as if she had swallowed a sea-urchin. And it was certainly not something she cared to admit.

For Bubbles was smiling innocently at her, confident not as much in herself as she was in her leader sister's judgment. Blossom didn't have the heart to shatter that.

No… the job of breaking Bubbles' trust belonged to the thugs in jail.

Not to her.

O.o.O

Bubbles went into prison that day with a brash confidence, highlighted to an obnoxious extent by Buttercup's clothes that she was still wearing. The clothes, however, only emphasized the confidence—they were not the source.

She was going to make a difference in these felons' lives, and she was going to start NOW.

Of course, it was going to be tough to redeem anyone. Bubbles knew that no crook in jail was going to reform simply because she gave him a sympathetic smile—she wasn't THAT naïve. But it wasn't a lost cause either. She could see real potential in some of them.

Boomer of the Rowdyruff Boys seemed as good a place to start as any.

"So," said Bubbles sweetly, "why are you so evil and nasty all the time? Do you really _want _to be that way, or are you simply suffering from a need for acceptance?"

Boomer blinked.

"…say _what?" _he finally cried.

"I know that your brothers are always the ringleaders of your pranks—Brick especially. But what if you were on your own, Boomer? Would you still be mean? Or would you want to help people?"

Boomer continued to stare at her in a completely baffled manner. "Jeez, Bubbles, you have a really weird way of flirting."

"I'm not flirting!" cried Bubbles. "I'm just trying to help you."

"If I say I've reformed, will you have sex with me?"

"_WHAT?!_ That's _not _what we're talking about!"

"Why else would you want to reform me?"

"I want to you to be a better person and contribute positively to society! I'm not looking for _that!"_

"Yeah, Boomer, you heard her!" Butch yelled at his brother, having been listening to their conversation. "Now back off so I can have a chance with her!"

"Hell no!" cried Boomer. "If you didn't notice, genius, _I'm _the one that looks like her! So that means _I'm _the one who's supposed to end up with her!"

"You moron! That doesn't make any difference!" Butch smiled as he slid his way towards Bubbles. "But I think blue and green go well together, don't you think?"

"No—go away!" cried Bubbles, aghast. "That's not what I'm here for!"

"You losers!" Brick rudely pushed both his brothers out of his way, giving him an unobstructed view of Bubbles. "Can't you tell she doesn't want you? Look at how far she went out of her way to make herself unattractive for you! She's waiting for someone to see… _through _that." He reached forward to grab the bottom of her jersey.

Bubbles slapped his hand and Brick pulled it away with a yelp, seeing as Bubbles had _not _been gentle.

"You're nothing but… but big, fat, perverts! All three of you!" cried Bubbles, her voice high-pitched with anger and fear. "I don't want to have sex with _any _of you, so _LEAVE ME ALONE!"_

The three boys looked at each other for a moment without saying anything.

"She's totally in denial," Boomer finally said.

"Duh," said Butch. "It's obvious she's got the hots for me."

"Back off dude, I saw her first!"

"She obviously doesn't want you!"

"She obviously doesn't want _you! _You're supposed to be with Buttercup, genius!"

"I can't _stand _Buttercup, genius! She's probably a lesbo anyway! But Bubbles is sweet enough and I bet she'd be great in bed!"

"She'd never go to bed with _you! _You're too tough for her!"

"You're terrible," Bubbles whispered. "I can't believe you guys. All three of you. You're… you're _terrible."_

She flew away from them, not wanting to hear any more.

_Well then? _she thought to herself. _Was that it? Did that do it—have I matured yet?_

She was angry, yes, but not crushed, not betrayed. She might have said that she couldn't believe what she was hearing, but the boys actually hadn't surprised her—she had been expecting that from them.

_Well, that must mean that I'm used to them being bad! I know that the world's a bad place then!_

Except she felt no different.

She turned and looked at the boys again. Boomer and Butch were still arguing, and it looked like Butch was winning, judging by the growing disparity of Boomer's facial expressions. Finally, Butch ended the argument by punching Boomer in the eye.

Bubbles gulped.

She still felt sorry for them—all three of them. They only acted the way they did because they didn't know any better. If someone could teach them, show them _how _to be nice, then surely they would be! There _had _to be something good in those boys… didn't there?

"You are wasting your time on those miscreants."

The smell of burning tobacco accompanied these words, and Bubbles didn't have to turn around to identify the speaker as Mojo. "No one's a waste of time," Bubbles said firmly, still not looking at him, although wondering when it was that he had taken up smoking.

"They have only known a life of foolishness, larceny, and troublemaking," said Mojo in a condescending tone. "With such a lifestyle and never knowing any other lifestyles, there is no hope or possibility that they will ever come to know anything otherwise."

Bubbles turned to look Mojo in the eye. "Yes there is. I just need to help them, and then they'll change."

"You are an optimistic, naïve, and foolish child," scorned Mojo. "Twelve years of being scorned and treated as an outcast have consequences that are irreversible. We are criminals, outcasts, villains, the scum of the earth! Even if we could be reformed, no one cares to, for we are what the rest of the world compares themselves to. We exist so that people like you have someone to hate."

"I don't hate you," said Bubbles, shaking her head sadly. "And I believe that there's good in everyone. In Boomer, in Butch, in Brick, in Fuzzy… and even in _you."_

Mojo took a rather prolonged drag from his cigarette, apparently trying to hide how ridiculous he was finding Bubbles' answers to be.

"And I'm not going to give up on them," Bubbles continued, beaming with confidence. "I'm going to make their lives better. They're going to be happy and nice. You'll see. I can change them. I know I can."

_Maybe then I'M not the one who needs changing, _she thought to herself as Mojo continued to look at her with disdain. _Maybe I'm the one who can change everyone else!_

_But if you keep on crying at every little bad thing, that's not good either…_

Bubbles bit her lip in confusion.

Who needed change more—she, or the criminals?

Mojo couldn't have known what thoughts were taking away her confidence, but he smirked at her as her composure faltered, taking another puff from his cigarette.

O.o.O

Bubbles always stayed at the jail until dinner, as she had planned from the start, but it was difficult that day, seeing as none of the inmates she tried to talk to her were at all receptive to her. She got one of two reactions from every inmate there was—either scorn at her because she was part of the reason he was in jail, or a lustful look at where they assumed her breasts were—Bubbles realized that just because she was wearing clothes that deemphasized her size didn't mean that men forgot that they were there.

By suppertime she was feeling frustrated and ready to go home. No progress had been made, and she was beginning to feel that, even if _they _needed the change more than she did, it might be she who succumbed first.

"Hey, Bubbly," said Boomer, jumping in line next to her. "Mind if I join you?"

"I suppose not…" Bubbles began. She frowned as Boomer stuck his tongue out in victory to his brothers.

"As long as you drop that expectation that I'm going to have sex with you!"

Boomer's face fell, and Bubbles sighed inwardly.

"Oh, no, that's not what I want from you at all, babe—I mean, Bubbles!" he said quickly, trying to cover his mistake. "I just—uh—I just wanna be friends. I mean, you just wanna help me, and I think that's great!" He craned his neck around her. "So what slop are they feeding us today?"

"I dunno," shrugged Bubbles. "It looks like some sort of pasta."

"Mmm," smiled Boomer. "I hope it's tortellini. That's my favorite. What about you, Bubbly? Do you like tortellini?"

"It's okay," said Bubbles, trying to hide how ill at ease she was feeling. Despite Boomer's complete 180-degree change in attitude—or perhaps because of it—she wasn't believing that all he wanted was to simply "be friends".

"Step aside, kid," a voice growled.

Both Bubbles and Boomer turned to look up… _way _up. The voice came from a huge man who was probably twice as tall as them, and he looked like he meant business.

"_I'll _be the one treating this little lady here to dinner."

Boomer gulped in terror.

"Excuse me?" Bubbles asked, trying to sound polite in an attempt to cover her anger, which in turn was an attempt to cover her own fear of this giant. "What do you mean, treat? We're not paying for this. We're just standing in a cafeteria line. You can't treat me to anything."

"I'm going to treat you with _myself."_

"No you won't!" cried Bubbles, her hand flying over her chest again.

"Yeah, b-b-back off!" stammered Boomer. "I saw her first…"

"That means _nothing," _growled the giant—and without warning, he suddenly grabbed Boomer by the collar of his shirt and held him up in the air. Boomer squeaked in horror.

"Put him _down!" _shrieked Bubbles.

The whole room grew quiet.

"No one's treating me to anything—food, or sex, or whatever! I'm not going to let people get into a fight over me—so put him down!" she continued, trying to find the right balance between Blossom's authority, Buttercup's fierceness, and her own understanding nature.

"What are you going to do about it, blondie?" said the giant.

"I'm a Powerpuff Girl," Bubbles said, her eyes narrowing. "And just 'cuz my sisters aren't here doesn't mean I still can't beat you up. I don't want to do it, but if you're going to start beating up other people for no reason, then I have no choice. So put him down. Because even if you _do _win over him, I still won't have sex with you. Ever. So put. Him. _DOWN."_

The man finally did release Boomer with a rather uncaring drop (Boomer let out a cry of pain as he hit the hard floor), although Bubbles couldn't be sure it was just because he was wary of her, or because the jail security had filed into the room right at that moment.

Bubbles reached out her hand to help Boomer up. "Are you okay?"

"Sure I am!" he scoffed, brushing himself off as if it had been no big deal. Bubbles made no attempt to hide from him her exasperated sigh. As if she was going to believe that he hadn't actually been scared—even if her memory was really _that _shot, he was still shaking like a leaf.

"And see," he was saying, "I'm not like that guy, I wouldn't expect you to have sex with me just like that!"

_Except you do, _thought Bubbles sadly. She felt silly for, after all that had happened in that short amount of time, what hurt her the most was that Boomer hadn't even thanked her.

She sighed and looked away from Boomer and behind her in line, where the inmates were still gaping at the scene that had just taken place. Brick and Butch were looking at each other, laughing uneasily at their brother's misfortune, but Bubbles paid no notice to them.

Instead, she couldn't help but give a gratifying smile at Mojo's facial expression—Mojo, who had been telling her that there was nothing redeemable in anyone. He looked absolutely dumbstruck.

_I told you, Mojo, _Bubbles thought, still smiling, _I'm not giving up!_

O.o.O

(AN: I'm not going to lie to you—I'm really starting to hate this story. (And I'm only on the second chapter—Lord help me, I AM in trouble.) This could be partially because I find Bubbles extremely, EXTREMELY hard to write for, or it could just be because I've finally phased out of the PPG fandom (about gall-dang time) and am just not feeling this story anymore. This whole plot is feeling silly and inconsistent to me now.

So, on that note, I'm going to be taking a break from this story for awhile. I've been writing a Darkwing Duck story, and I don't want to start it and then have my inspiration for it just fizzle away, as it has on this one.

For those of you who actually like this story, though, don't you worry. I don't intend for this hiatus to be permanent. Once I finish the Darkwing story, I'll tackle this one again. I don't want to leave it unfinished, so no, I'm not abandoning this. I'm sorry if this distresses anyone, but hey, I'm constantly shifting fandoms.

I don't know when chapter three will be, but I promise there WILL be one, and whenever that is, I will hopefully see you there again! Take care!)


	3. three

"I don't understand why you don't just break out."

"It does not surprise me that such a plebian thought would pass through your plebian mind, clearly showing to me that you do not think things through and find the obvious solution—"

"I _am _thinking things through," Bubbles said, interrupting Mojo's tirade, "which is why I asked you. If I hadn't thought about it I wouldn't have thought to ask."

Mojo was momentarily dumbfounded.

"I suppose," he finally conceded, taking a drag from his cigarette, "that your explanation makes a certain amount of sense. By reaching a question, the implication is that one has thought enough about a subject to even have a question to ask. There are, however, some questions that can come from a much smaller amount of reflection and thought, and that question that I would like to question of you is, why do you constantly question me? For a week now you have badgered me with queries and inquiries, and me alone!"

"You're the only one here who'll talk to me," said Bubbles with a shrug. "Everyone else hates me."

"Are you brain dead?" Mojo spluttered. _"I _hate you!"

"I know," said Bubbles levelly, "but at least you'll still talk to me. So I don't think you hate me as much as everyone else here." She smiled. "Either that, or you just love to talk more than anyone else here!"

"How dare you insinuate that I somehow enjoy hearing my own voice, and, along with that allegation, am narcissistic and egotistical in that I enjoy and take pleasure in hearing myself talk? I talk, speak, and converse in no more words than are necessary and needed to get my point across, and do not over-accentuate my speech with unnecessary words that are not needed! I carefully select the words and phrases I use in order to insure maximum comprehension in as compact a sense as possible! And furthermore—"

"Alright, you win," Bubbles interrupted. "You just like talking, that's all." She giggled.

"Foolish child!" Mojo spat out. "You dare to chortle and find amusement at the care to which I give words, when you should be grateful that I deign to give you a fraction of my time to answer your silly, inane questions that I still do not understand why you insist on asking so many of—"

"When did you take up smoking?" Bubbles interrupted.

Mojo was again speechless for a second or two, the abruptness of her question catching him off-guard.

"A couple of years ago," he finally answered. "I am not certain of the exact number."

"Why?"

"Why? Because memory is a faulty tool, selective in its own confusing manner, and only with limited space for—"

"I don't mean why don't you remember, I mean why did you take up smoking?"

"Oh." Mojo actually blushed for a split second in brief embarrassment of his misunderstanding. "To calm my nerves," he answered.

Bubbles raised her eyebrows in surprise. "That's it? Your answer is just half a sentence?"

Mojo sighed in irritation, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray next to him. "Again, you are not thinking. My answer should have been more than sufficient if you only stopped to consider all the stressors I have suffered at the hands of you and your sisters. As my tensions mounted, the few things I had done in the past to relieve them were quickly diminishing in effectiveness. I had to come up with something else, because you accursed Powerpuff Girls were not letting up! In short, Bubbles, _you _drove me to smoke!"

"That's terrible," said Bubbles, but in a tone that was more chiding than full of pity. "Smoking wasn't your only option. There are plenty of ways you can calm your nerves that don't involve destroying your body in the process! Don't you know how dangerous smoking is?"

Mojo snorted. "What do you care?" he said.

"What do you mean, what do I care? You're going to get lung cancer or emphysema or something! Of course I care!"

Mojo again stared at her, uncharacteristically silent. Bubbles, also a little confused by Mojo's confusion, leaned back in her chair at the cafeteria table and waited for a response.

The past few weeks, as Bubbles had continued to visit the prison, it got harder, not easier, to even converse with any of the inmates. Any attempts at conversation she started were rudely rebuked, to the point where they would move away from her before she could even say one word.

Only Mojo spoke to her—in fact, he even initiated conversation with her. That is, if remarking "you are a fool" counted as initiating conversation, but Bubbles took what she could get. The first few days of this, she simply let Mojo ramble about everything that irritated him—the majority of this relating to the Powerpuff Girls—but she eventually found herself unable to hold her tongue. But it wasn't from anger that she found herself speaking up—it was curiosity. Curiosity, and, strangely enough, a feeling of pity for the simian.

"You are a frustrating paradox, Bubbles," Mojo muttered, finally breaking the silence, looking away from her.

"What do you mean?" Bubbles asked.

"You are my enemy. You are good and I am evil. It is in my nature to cause destruction, mayhem, and turmoil to the world, or at least the city, and it is in your nature to stop me, which typically involves beatings and other violent means to throw me in this hellhole called jail. You show no compassion to me when you do this. But now you seem genuinely concerned for my health because of my smoking habit?" He took a deep breath and looked back at her, looking positively incredulous. "Does that not seem conflicting to you?"

Bubbles thought this over for a moment.

"No," she finally said. "When you destroy Townsville and try to take over the world and all that, you're doing something bad to everyone else, and you need to be punished for it. But when you smoke, you're just doing something bad to _yourself, _and that means that deep down inside you're lost and—"

"STOP!" hollered Mojo. "I do not wish to hear your idealized and false beliefs about the good person who is deep down inside of me and any other outrageous lies you are about to say. Even if what you said about harming myself was true, why should you be concerned? If I harm myself enough I will no longer be a threat to Townsville, and thus your beloved citizens will all be safe from me. So everyone wins!"

"But not _you," _murmured Bubbles.

"Of course not." Mojo leaned over the table and gave Bubbles a small, cruel smile. "I am the villain. I never win. That is the way you have made it."

"No, that's the way _you've _made it," said Bubbles. "I don't care what you say, Mojo. I think that there's a good person somewhere inside of you… and I don't think you have to be a villain."

Mojo snorted in laughter. "Your naiveté grows to new heights everyday. I cannot change, Bubbles. Just as _you _cannot change. Which reminds me—if the reason you are here is to toughen yourself, then why are you wasting time and being counterproductive in trying to soften _me?"_

"I'm not wasting time," snapped Bubbles. "For one thing, someone's well-being and happiness is never a waste of time. And for another thing, I've toughened plenty!"

"Oh, _that's _a good one," Mojo muttered, rolling his eyes. "You are Bubbles. You are bubbly. You are sweet and caring and kind and gentle and everything that we are not. I have yet to see you be anything else." He lit another cigarette.

"I can be all that and still be tough, too." Bubbles protested. "You see, I'm not scared of you anymore. And I'm not so sensitive about what other people say to me, after everything I've heard people here say while I've been here. And I can change. I _have _changed, I think. And I can be tough with you, and try to make you happier, and at least a little nicer, because I think you can be! You talk to me. You don't walk away from me like everyone else. You listen to me. You might tell me I'm foolish, but you still listen. So I think that you maybe care about me, just a little."

"Why of all the—"

Bubbles didn't let him finish. "And since I'm tougher now, I can _make _you be softer. I'm not going to let you continue to ruin yourself because I care about you too! I can be tough and still be caring, don't you see? That's what I _am!"_

Mojo angrily swiped the ashtray at Bubbles, covering her with ashes and cigarette butts. _"SILENCE, _you weak-minded little liar!"

Bubbles coughed and rubbed her eyes frantically. _"Mojo! _Why did you _do _that?"

Her voice was hoarse, of course, because of the ashes that had invaded her breathing air. Her eyes were watering, of course, because of the same ashes collecting in her eyes. But even as she coughed, and even as she rubbed the ashes out of her eyes, Mojo couldn't help but notice that stray tears were still leaking out, that her nose was sniffling, that her voice seemed to be caught with more than cigarette ashes.

_Sensitive little fool, _he thought.

But even as he thought that, a small pang was growing in his chest as he watched Bubbles pull the cigarette butts out of her hair, a few tears still on her cheeks.

Odd.

"Do not make a mess of yourself," he chided, standing up and moving to her side, picking a cigarette butt out of her hair and putting it in the ashtray.

"You should talk," Bubbles muttered, her voice only catching for a second. "You're the one who did this to me in the first—"

"And put the rest of them in the ashtray too!" Mojo demanded harshly.

Bubbles glared at Mojo. "Why did you call me a liar?" she asked.

"More questions." Mojo rolled his eyes again. "I called you a liar because you are one. You claimed to care about me, but once my jail term is up and I am back to my villainous ways, you will beat me to a pulp as you always do. Even if you can truly change yourself, as you claim, you cannot change our cycle."

Bubbles looked at him, her glare softened a little but not entirely gone. Mojo smirked. "What do you have to say to that?" he asked her.

"Nothing, but I have another question."

"_More _questions!"

"Actually, it's one I asked before but you never answered. Why don't you break out of jail if you hate it here so much?"

"Why do you insist on asking questions with such obvious answers? What would I gain if I broke out? I would simply be speeding up our cycle. I would simply be thrown in here again, thanks to you and your 'violent compassion'."

He smiled even broader and nastier at Bubbles, whose glare was entirely gone now, replaced only with a look of confusion and fear. "It of course will happen either way," he said, leaning right into her face, "because our cycle cannot change. But I would like to have a little peace first. And here is the only place I can get peace—at least, here _was _the only place I could get peace until you insisted on barging in here and ruining it."

Bubbles took a breath before looking Mojo squarely in the eye and answering him. "You don't have to talk to me, you know."

"You will not shut up."

"_You _won't shut up."

"Perhaps, in time, you will understand me well enough so that we will _both _shut up."

Mojo moved away from Bubbles, picking up his cigarette and taking a drag from it. Bubbles winced without thinking. "Please, will you at least stop smoking? While I'm here? It… bothers me."

Mojo raised his eyebrows in complete shock. "You truly _are _a puzzle, Bubbles."

…………

"_BUTTERCUP!"_

Blossom, who was sitting at the kitchen table late that night working on her advanced physics homework, winced and dropped her pencil to cover her ears. She wished Bubbles would remember just how super-sonic her screams could get.

Buttercup, in the next room over watching a gory movie on TV, just groaned. "What's the beef, Bubbles?"

Bubbles, dressed in her pajamas, zipped down the stairs in a flash, holding a large blue brush with some noticeable black hairs caught between the teeth. "You used my brush! Why did you use my brush? You have your own!"

"Jeez, don't have a cow!" Buttercup snapped back. "The teeth in your brush are further apart than mine—I thought they might work better on thick hair like mine, and they did. I was just testing it."

"_Testing it?!" _Bubbles shrieked. "You could have asked me first, Buttercup!"

"Hey, you've been wearing my clothes! Why shouldn't I be able to use your brush?"

"I asked you first—well, after the first day. But you got your hairs all in my brush, and now I'll have to—"

"—pick them out, oh no! The world is ending! Come on, Bubbles, I won't do it again. It's just a few hairs!"

"It's not that, it's the whole principle of the thing—it's common courtesy to ask!" Bubbles took a deep breath before continuing in a slightly more level voice. "Just ask next time, okay? I probably would have said yes, but I don't like unexpectedly finding black hairs in my brush."

"Very well, your highness—"

"Wow, Bubbles, I'm impressed." Blossom was smiling, genuinely approving of what she had just seen.

"Impressed? She gave me crap over a friggin' brush!" Buttercup protested.

"She stood up to you… and she didn't entirely lose her temper and go crazy like she has done before." Blossom gave Bubbles a playful smirk. "She was reasonable, but still firm. I think your jail time has paid off, Bubbles."

Bubbles grinned. "I think so too, Blossom. I mean, I don't care much anymore if I hear someone say a bad thing about me. If I make a mistake, I don't cry about it, I think about how I can make it better."

"Jeez, that's it? That's all she had to do?" Buttercup asked in surprise. "Yell at me because my black hairs were ruining her brush?"

"It's not just that," said Blossom. "It's been a variety of things. For this past week or so you've just seemed more confident, Bubbles. You've taken a step in the right direction. I think you have toughened up quite a bit… in a short amount of time, too."

"What, do you think she doesn't have to go to jail anymore?" Buttercup asked.

"Oh no, I have to! I want to!" Bubbles blurted out.

Blossom stared at Bubbles. "You _want _to?"

"I'm… not tough enough yet… and… there's still… some other things I want to do there," Bubbles stammered.

"Like what?" Blossom asked.

"Um…" Bubbles's voice trailed off.

"Bubbles, frankly, I've been uneasy about the whole thing from the start," Blossom said, "and with how well it's worked for you, I think you should call it quits before anything bad happens to you."

"But it was _your _idea!" Bubbles said.

"And that's just enabling her!" Buttercup added. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I've thought this whole thing was crazy from the get-go. But finish what you start, Blossom! If this is really what's working for her, you have to keep her there long enough for the results to be permanent."

"I don't even care about _my _results anymore," Bubbles said, "I care about…"

"What?" Blossom asked quizzically.

Bubbles didn't answer, but not because she hadn't heard Blossom's question, or even because she didn't want to finish her sentence. What made her pause was a very strange realization of something that she had known for a long time now, but only just now was becoming aware that she knew. Despite being shunned by everyone at the prison except for Mojo, and despite his frequent sneering at her…

…she realized that her time spent at the prison was her favorite part of her day.

…………

(AN: Holy crap, this story lives.

Kind of.

I had tried writing this chapter about a year ago, but I didn't get very far. Then I spent my summer abroad and when I got back to the States, I was both busy with school and occupied in other fandoms, not sparing a thought to PPG. However, recently I felt the need to try writing this chapter one more time. I threw out what little I had and started over in a different direction, and that seems to have made the difference—this chapter only took about a week to write.

This story is still on hiatus, though. I still don't know where to take it from here—_especially _now, actually, because I've realized how silly my original idea was. (This is why, from here on out, I'm only posting _completed _stories.) Also, even if I did, I'm graduating from college in about a month and have TONS of stuff to do before then, including two rather large research projects, among other things. I really have no time for fanfiction right now.

Oh, and I might as well reveal the pairing now, if you haven't figured it out. Two years ago, when I wrote a lot of Mojo/Blossom, I got flamed to the hills for my pairing choice, and while I laughed them off at first, after thinking about it, I realized, "Wow, yes, Mojo/Blossom is truly an abomination, it is sick and wrong and I should not be writing that filth any longer!" Hence, this story is Mojo/Bubbles, a far more acceptable pairing. Thank you, flamers, for helping me see the light!

…Heh, I'm joking. About the Mojo/Blossom thing, anyway—they're still my OTP. :) But I'm not joking about this story being Mojo/Bubbles. I've always had a soft spot for this pairing, and have yet to see much in the way of it.

Again, if this story is updated at all, it probably won't be for another… well, maybe not one and a half years, but certainly not for a few months at the very least. I'm sorry about that, really. And I'm grateful for anyone who still remembers me and is willing to put up with me. Of course, reviews of any kind are always welcome. And while I cannot guarantee there will be a chapter four, I certainly _hope _there will be one, and I hope to see you all there. :))


	4. four

Mojo Jojo sat at his usual table in the far corner of the prison cafeteria, his fingers drumming it incessantly as his eyes kept flickering back up to the clock on the wall: 3:38. Still 3:38. Still 3:38. Yep, still 3:38, the time hadn't changed in the nanosecond that he had looked at the clock last time…

"Where is Powerpuff Girl Bubbles?" he muttered. She was late. It wasn't Saturday or Sunday, right? No, it was Tuesday. Of course it was Tuesday. Then where was…

The doors opened and Bubbles quickly flew in, pushing them shut behind her. She smiled upon seeing Mojo and instantly made her way over to him, the other inmates now not giving her a second glance. "Hi, Mojo!"

"You are late!" said Mojo irritably. "The time you usually arrive is 3:30, and seeing as it is now 3:38, this makes you late by exactly eight minutes by reason of you not being here at 3:30 as you normally are, and arriving at 3:38—"

"Enough already! I get it!" Bubbles also looked a bit irritated as she sat down across from Mojo, but she suddenly smiled softly. "You mean you just sat here and waited for me this entire time? That's so sweet of you!"

Mojo harrumphed, but his eyes were nervous and embarrassed and he stumbled over his words a bit. "F-foolish girl, I was doing nothing of the kind!"

"You were too. You were waiting for me."

"I… alright, yes, I was, because in a day filled with boredom as the prison lifestyle provides, you are the only thing I look forward to!"

Bubbles giggled and blushed profusely. "I'm the bright spot of your day? Do you really mean that?"

Mojo growled in irritation. "No, th-that is not what I meant!" Why was he feeling _his _cheeks redden as well? It was Bubbles' flighty-teenage-girl-reaction to his words and nothing else, he reasoned. Bubbles was misinterpreting everything he said—of course he was embarrassed! "I meant that I look forward to hearing all your foolish, inane ideas of the world so that I can stomp all over them with my superior intellect, that is what I meant!"

"Speaking of your superior intellect…" Bubbles pulled out a large textbook from her backpack. "Can you help my with my chemistry homework?"

"What a surprise," mumbled Mojo sarcastically. He had been expecting this. In fact, he would have been slightly disappointed if Bubbles hadn't asked him for help with her homework, as she had been doing for the past week or so. "How did you do on your test?"

Bubbles grinned. "I got an A minus on it! Thanks for all your help, I think I really get the periodic table of the elements now."

"If you really get it, then why do you still need my help?" Mojo was still smiling at her, however.

"Well, I understand them all separately, but now we're on atomic combinations, and that's a little bit…"

"Ah. I see. What exactly do you need help with?"

"Here's the worksheet." Bubbles opened her textbook to the page where she had inserted a sheet of paper with questions on it. "We have to figure out how to draw out bonds between different atoms, and all they give us is the letters. Like the first one—NH3. How am I supposed to know how to draw that out?"

"It is laughingly simple, Bubbles, doesn't everyone know how ammonia is formed?"

"Not me."

"Here. Turn to the back cover of your book and show me the periodic table."

"I know about the periodic table," said Bubbles, a bit offended, but dutifully flipping to where the table of elements was in the back of her book. "And I know that N is nitrogen and that it's number seven. I know that without having to look."

"Very well, very well, but what you need to know about nitrogen in this case is the number of outer electrons it has. The first level of elements has just two, which is why hydrogen and helium are on their own line in the chart. After that they are in groups of eight. So, if nitrogen is seven, and two of its electrons are in its first level, how many valence electrons does that leave it?"

Bubbles scratched her head. "Five?"

"Very good. Now draw an N on your worksheet with a circle around it and five dots to represent its five electrons. Now how many electrons does each level need to be complete?"

"You said groups of eight."

"Precisely. Your other element in this compound is H, hydrogen, and the three at the end signifies that there are three of them. And how many electrons does hydrogen have?"

"Just one."

"And what is five plus one plus one plus one?"

Bubbles' eyes lit up. "Eight!"

Mojo motioned to her worksheet in an almost bored manner. "There you have it. You now know how to form ammonia. One nitrogen plus three hydrogen, giving the nitrogen three more electrons in addition to its five, thus adding up to eight, thus being complete. As eight is the number of valence electrons needed to be complete, and five added to three is eight, thus with your five nitrogen electrons, plus three separate hydrogen—"

"This makes sense now!" Bubbles interrupted, quickly drawing out the compound on her worksheet. "I think I've finally got the hang of it. Thank you for helping me!"

Mojo pouted a bit at being interrupted, but he still managed to sneer again at Bubbles, more out of habit than anything else. "Don't you have friends at your school, your established center of learning, to help you with your homework which is assigned to you at your school?"

Bubbles shook her head. "No, not really."

Mojo was, for once, at a loss for words.

Looking back at him and seeing his expression, Bubbles shrugged again, trying to look unaffected. "I mean, there's some people I talk to at school… but they're more interested in what it's like for me being a superhero. They don't really talk to me about anything else. I have my sisters for… for more important things. And Buttercup can't really help me with my homework. Blossom can, but she's in all these advanced classes and she doesn't have time to help me with mine. So I do it alone." She smiled. "Except for now, at least. Now I have you!"

"The _Powerpuff Girls _have no _friends?" _Mojo spluttered, still unable to wrap his mind around what Bubbles had just implied.

"That's not true," Bubbles protested, "we do have…"

Her voice trailed off and she stared at her worksheet, trying to think about the people she knew at school… what were their hobbies, what did they like to do, what were they like beyond school hours, and coming up blank.

"No, you're right," she murmured with a sigh. "We don't have friends. Except for each other. We just… don't have the time for friends."

She looked back up at Mojo, and felt herself smile again. "Although I have a friend now!"

"You do?" Mojo looked behind him. "Who?"

"You, silly!" giggled Bubbles.

"Ha! Ha! I, Mojo Jojo, your _friend? _I am your _worst enemy, _you naïve child!"

Bubbles just giggled at that again. "We're worst enemies, huh? Then why do you sit around and wait for me to come so you can help me with my homework?"

"B—because I—"

"No, I know. To show off your superior intellect." Bubbles was still smiling as she turned back to her homework, but her smile faded as she examined the next question. "Um, Mojo?"

"_What?"_

"Could you help me with question two?"

"Give me that." Mojo snatched the paper from Bubbles, pouring all his attention to the worksheet.

Bubbles smiled as a thought entered her mind, one that she didn't say aloud because she didn't want Mojo to defensively argue with her—because she knew he would. But she knew it was true, and so did he, he had to. And the truth of it was why she smiled.

_I knew there was good in you._

…

The next day, Mojo was again ready for Bubbles at their usual time, and he again had to wait. And wait. And wait.

And wait.

3:58, still no show.

"_WHERE IS POWERPUFF GIRL BUBBLES?" _he roared.

All of the other inmates in the room glared at him.

"_Someone's _pining away for his little girl toy," a bank robber sneered.

"I still don't get why she picked the _monkey _over _me," _Brick muttered.

"_She is not my girl toy!"_ Mojo shrieked, his arms twitching in rage. "And she did not 'pick' me and I did not 'pick' her! I merely ask where she is because she normally arrives at 3:30, and seeing as it is 3:58 she is twenty-eight minutes late, and if she does not show up in the next two minutes she will be an entire half an hour late, and by entire half I do not mean an entire half of something which would paradoxically be a whole, but rather an entire half an hour which is equal to thirty minutes—"

"Would you please be quiet, I can't hear myself think!" cried the warden. "Look, Bubbles won't be in today. Professor Utonium called to let us know. She's got the flu. Now can you please _shut up?"_

"It would have been helpfully beneficial and beneficially helpful to me if you had let me know at an earlier time than this, so that I would not have wasted twenty-eight minutes of my time sitting around and waiting for her to arrive when she is in fact not arriving at all because she is sick and thus will not be arriving!" Mojo spluttered.

"I didn't know you cared so much," snapped the warden. "Besides, what would you have done with those twenty-eight minutes had you known? Watched soaps on TV like the rest of them?"

"No, I would have—" Mojo abruptly cut himself short when he realized that he didn't have an answer. "What I would have or would not have done is not your concern, it is simply that I was expecting Bubbles to arrive as she always does, and when she did not arrive and I received no warning of the fact that she would not arrive, it threw off my expectations for the day and thus—"

Mojo suddenly realized that the warden wasn't listening to him. In fact, the warden had left completely.

"_Curses," _Mojo muttered, pacing his corner of the cafeteria. He felt no attachment to Bubbles whatsoever, regardless of what everyone was insinuating. It was just that now he had nothing to do today. He would have liked a little advance warning on that front! _Now _what was he supposed to do without Bubbles?

He reached in his pocket for his cigarettes.

They weren't there.

He hadn't really felt the need to smoke them the past couple of days when Bubbles had been there.

He growled and muttered under his breath.

Well, he felt the need _now!_

How dare the warden not tell him?

How dare _Bubbles _just get sick and ditch him like that?

No, no, no, _who cared about Powerpuff Girl Bubbles? _She was a _Powerpuff Girl! _She was the one who had put him here in the _first _place! Regardless of the fact that she was also the only one to listen to him and seek out his wealth of advice and care about his smoking habit or even _notice _it and—

—_AND WHY DID ANY OF THAT MATTER IN THE SLIGHTEST ANYWAY?_

"Curses, curses, _curses!" _Mojo screamed.

"Hey, Mojo!"

Mojo spun around. The warden was back. _"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" _he hollered.

The warden didn't even flinch. "If you're done cursing, I thought I'd let you know that I forgot to tell you something, although you probably know it anyway. Your sentence is up tomorrow. You get to go home."

Mojo blinked in confusion. "Home?"

"You know, where you live?"

"But—but—" Mojo's eyes flashed wildly about the colorless room of the prison and reached for where the cigarettes weren't in his pocket, before feeling his rage set in again. _"CURSES!"_

"Sheesh, I thought you prisoners always were _overjoyed _when your terms are up."

"Of course I am overjoyed to get out of this hellhole—curses, _curses, CURSES!"_

"I give up." The warden turned and left again.

Mojo continued to anxiously pace his corner of the room, his mind running too fast for him to be able to pick apart the words racing through it. What what what _what was he going to do now?_

Take over the world, of course!

Crush Townsville!

Destroy Bubbles!

No, wait, destroy the Powerpuff Girls. Destroy all three of them.

_Bubbles!_

He would go back to what he had always done! And he had most certainly _not _always helped Bubbles with her homework! He would go back to fighting her. And she would go back to fighting him. Of course.

Mojo grabbed a napkin and pen and immediately began scribbling down his world domination plans for tomorrow. Tomorrow things would go back to normal. No more overly compassionate Bubbles listening to him and talking with him and voluntarily spending time with him.

He would miss that.

"_CURSES!" _he screamed yet again.

…

Bubbles flew back to her house the next evening, slower than usual. Blossom, Buttercup, and the Professor had just finished eating dinner. Buttercup was in the living room, lounging in front of the TV, while Blossom and the Professor were cleaning up the dishes.

"Hi, Bubbles!" Blossom called cheerfully.

"If you're still hungry, honey, there's some leftover spaghetti you can heat up!" said the Professor.

"Thanks, but I'm fine." Bubbles hovered into the kitchen, trying to keep her chin up, although the truth of the matter was that she felt crushed. Her day at the prison had been absolutely awful, and to her surprise, she knew the reason, and although it was a very strange reason it was the honest-to-God truth nonetheless—it because Mojo was no longer there. And without Mojo there, Bubbles was faced with nothing but sneers and jabs from the other inmates. "Blossom," she said, in her most confident voice, "I think you were right what you said a few weeks ago. I think I'm done at the prison now."

Blossom looked at Bubbles with surprise. "You do? You're really ready to quit now?"

"I thought you liked it there… freak that you are," Buttercup muttered, overhearing from her spot in the living room.

"Well, I did, but now I… I'm just done, I guess," Bubbles stammered. "I mean, I've gotten tougher, right? But I don't wanna get _too _tough!"

Buttercup snorted. "Something _scared _you, didn't it?"

Bubbles' eyes narrowed. "No! Nothing scared me at all! I'm just done!"

"You're scared and too much of a wuss to go back!"

"Am not! That's not it at all, Buttercup!"

"Chicken! I've seen applesauce tougher than you!"

"I am tough! I'll show you tough!"

"_Girls!" _both Blossom and the Professor admonished.

Bubbles and Buttercup were spared further reprimand by the buzzing of the hotline.

Blossom snatched it up. "Yes Mayor? …What? Oh no, not again! Don't worry, we're on it!" Slamming the receiver back down, she turned to her sisters. "Can your arguing, girls! Mojo Jojo's destroying Townsville again!"

She and Buttercup took to the skies, not noticing Bubbles remaining behind, frozen, staring at the hotline with wide, heartbroken eyes, and choking out one single word hardly above a whisper.

"_What?"_

…

(AN: I win! I said it wouldn't be a year and a half until I updated this next, and I was right! It was only a year and four months. A year and a _third. _WIN FOR COMMANDER.

…Yeah, I suck.

And so does this chapter, I know, but… at least something happens? At least I actually wrote the dang thing? (You can thank the fact that I finally bought the PPG DVD boxed set, which has definitely helped. I even took another look at the "Refugee" sequel I once started, too!)

But yes, this is still on hiatus, even though I'm finally beginning to fumble my way through this and finding a workable way to write it. I don't think there will be too many more chapters, though. (Of course it'll probably take me three more years to finish them, regardless.)

Also, amazingly, it only took me a day to write this. (I'm sure it shows.)

So… see you at chapter five, a year from now? ;) In all seriousness, though, I still do appreciate reviews, and let's hope I continue to have a shred of inspiration to continue this! (I'm only halfway through the third season of my DVDs, so there's still a lot of episodes to go to keep me motivated!)

Thanks again for reading, and sorry for keeping what few readers I have left hanging like this.)


	5. five

Mojo Jojo normally planned his evil outings much better than this.

Jail time was the time to do it. Jail was the time he normally did it. There was nothing else to do, other than watch those accursed soap operas and hide from those hulking inmates who always wanted to have their way with him. He could spend all that time planning his next amazing, evil scheme. Put all that spare time to good use, right?

He hadn't during this jail sentence, though. That accursed Bubbles had taken up too much of his time.

But! No matter. He was going to destroy those Powerpuff Girls, destroy the whole city, and he'd never have to think about sharing random musings with Bubbles, or about helping Bubbles with her homework, or about that weird warm glow he'd feel inside whenever Bubbles would share some of her meal with him—

—OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD WHO _CARED _BUBBLES IS JUST A NAÏVE SILLY CARING LITTLE GIRL AND THE FOOD THERE WAS CRAP ANYWAY!

He wasn't even paying attention to what he was destroying during this rampage. Usually he had more focus. Even if said rage was fueled by diabolical rage and evil glee. At least it was _something, _something other than infuriating confusion.

Confusion that he feared was anything but, that he in fact knew exactly how he was feeling.

And if that were the case… there weren't enough buildings in Townsville to take the brunt of his outrage, his fear, his swimming emotions.

"Aaaaahh! It's Mojo!" a panicked citizen shrieked.

Mojo rolled his eyes. As if this was a shocking bit of news! Who _else _would it be? No other villain who regularly rampaged through Townsville like this had quite the same sense of style! After twelve blasted, infernal, accursed years of this, you'd think they'd at least _start _to get a clue!

"Somebody call the Powerpuff Girls!" another idiot yelled.

Okay, _that did it._

Adjusting the controls on the Robo-Jojo 8000 (version six), Mojo plucked the ignorant _moron _off of the ground with the giant robotic arm and brought him right up against the glass that kept him shielded in the machine's control panel. _"DO NOT SAY THOSE ACCURSED WORDS!" _he snarled.

"W-what words?" Moron McIdiot-Stupidton squeaked out.

Mojo's face contorted in rage. _"You know what words! The_—"

"_THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!" _a chorus of voices cried in relief upon seeing their saviors.

_Curses! _It brought them _straight here! _Just like it _always _did!

"Not so fast—" Blossom began.

"—Mojo—" Buttercup added.

—and then… only silence. Bubbles, silly, naïve little Bubbles, had missed her cue. She floated in the air limply, shocked, her huge blue eyes filled with betrayal.

Mojo's eyes met hers. A million unsaid words were passed between them, the majority of them being simply, _"Why? WHY? __**WHY?"**_

And then Mojo snapped back to action, shifting his focus back to the matter at hand. Which was, of course, his evil plot for world domination.

Whatever the exact details of that plot even _were, _of course. Even _he_ wasn't for sure.

"_POWERPUFF GIRLS!" _he roared, genuinely angry at their presence. More so than usual, even. _"Stop ruining my beautiful evil plot!"_

"And what is that, exactly?" Blossom demanded, motioning to all the haphazard destruction behind her. "You're usually more focused than this, Mojo. You're obviously just going through the motions today. Just give it up already!"

"There—there is a perfectly valid plan behind all this!" Mojo spluttered. "A plan that is so brilliant and so evil that I could not expect your simple and plebian little minds to fully comprehend! However I will assure you, pledge to you, and give you my guarantee that these actions that seem random and ill-conceived are in fact deliberate and carefully planned and carried out, and you will realize and be made aware of this when I finally _take over the_—"

BAM!

Curses. His big mouth would be the undoing of him. As usual.

Blossom broke through the glass of the Robo-Jojo 8000 (version six) with one well-aimed punch, and Buttercup instantly shot through the jagged entrance to pummel Mojo into oblivion, like she usually did.

And yet another huge dental bill coming right up…

Buttercup tossed Mojo through the air, but Mojo didn't feel any need to start panicking. He'd been through all this before. And—yep, right on cue, Blossom caught him, and gave him a stinging punch of her own. And then he was in the air again, and—

—he fell to the ground with a painful thud.

Bubbles still wasn't moving.

"_Ugh!" _Mojo groaned. He had grown used to the Powerpuff Girls' punches, yes, but falling sixty feet to solid concrete was still as painful as it always was. _"Curses…"_

"Hello, Bubbles?" Buttercup snapped. "What's wrong with you?"

"We're fighting Mojo here!" Blossom yelled. "Get with the program and stop just hovering there!"

Bubbles continued to float blankly, her eyes wide and unblinking, for three, two…

And then her eyes narrowed dangerously.

Mojo's life flashed before his eyes.

With a mighty scream, Bubbles blasted towards Mojo like a berserk torpedo.

…

Mojo saw stars.

Yeah, wasn't that cliché that whenever anyone gets knocked out, little stars or birds or bells or other deceptively bright, shiny forms appeared above their head? —And regardless, Mojo hadn't even been knocked out at all, although he dearly wished he had been. The pain was nearly too intense to be conscious for.

"_YYYYYYOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU!" _Bubbles' accusing screech was not her super sonic scream, but it was pretty damn close to it, and it hurt Mojo almost as much as the franticly flung punches that were driven by rage rather than thought, the punches that had literally blasted them in the first place. _"I thought you CHANGED, Mojo! I thought you were GOOD!"_

Normally, Mojo would have made a biting, seething retort to that naïve little thought, but he was too overcome by two separate things: one, the sound and fury of Bubbles' super powered punches… and two, the fact that _there were no other sounds besides her._

"Bubbles—"

"_How could you DO this to me?"_

"_BUBBLES! STOP, CEASE, AND DESIST!"_

Whether it was the sudden panic rather than rage in his voice that did actually halt Bubbles' pummeling, Mojo wasn't sure. But she did stop.

And then they both looked around, their jaws slacking, both of them unable to move as they took in their surroundings. Their surroundings that were most certainly not anywhere in Townsville.

All that surrounded them were trees. Tree after tree after tree. Tall, thick trees that completely obstructed any vision.

"You…" Surprisingly Mojo was able to speak first. He glared at Bubbles, the pounding she had just unleashed upon him starting to turn around and redirect the rage back at the dispenser. "You have shot us straight in the middle of the forest! _Curse you! _You have sent us straight from urban to rural! From metro to nature! From civilization to the wild! From buildings to forest! _WHERE ARE WE, ANYWAY?"_

"Uh…" All trace of anger was gone from Bubbles, who simply hovered in the air, a confused, sheepish look on her face. But then, hardly a second later, she blasted off into the sky, leaving a trail of blue behind her.

Mojo gasped, now completely panicked. _"BUBBLES! Where are you going? You cannot leave me here, alone, by myself, and solitary, in such a defenseless and vulnerable state as I currently am in during this specific moment_—"

Bubbles landed in front of him just as quickly as she had shot off.

"I wasn't leaving you, Mojo. I was seeing where we are."

"…Oh."

Silence.

"_And?" _Mojo finally demanded.

Bubbles blushed sheepishly. "All I could see were trees."

"Well of course all you could see were trees!" Mojo spluttered. "We are in the middle of a forest, a dense growth of tress covering a large tract of land, a sprawling mass of lumber inhabited by various wildlife and far from any sign of civilized life! And the immediate course of action that you must presently take at this time is to fly us to the first outpost of civilization that we can find and encounter, discover at what location said outpost of civilization is situated, and use its location to determine in what direction Townsville is in order that we may traverse in that direction in order to arrive home!"

Bubbles crossed her arms angrily. "I'm not taking you anywhere, Mojo!"

"_WHAT? _But you cannot just _leave _me here!"

"I'm not doing that, either! I already told you that! I'm not that mean!"

"Then what _are _you going to do?"

"Stay with you, of course."

And then, to Mojo's complete befuddlement, Bubbles calmly plopped into a cross-legged sitting position on the ground.

"What—what are you doing?" Mojo stammered out, confusion giving way to aggravation.

"Well, you're not going anywhere," said Bubbles, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "Once you start moving, though, I'll follow you."

"Once _I _start moving?"

"I told you I won't leave you. I'll follow you."

"You should be getting us _out _of here! It is _your _fault we are here in the _first _place!"

"_You're _the one who attacked Townsville! _You're _the bad guy! _You're _the one who _LET ME DOWN!"_

Mojo stared at her incredulously.

"Just—never mind!" Bubbles snapped, turning her head away. "I thought you—you _deserve _to be lost in the forest—you _deserve _to be beaten up—if I hadn't already punched you I'd punch you again—just—whenever you're ready to find your way home, I'll follow." She still defiantly avoided looking at him.

Mojo felt his limbs shaking, from utter perplexity every bit as much as from rage. "Are you… are you completely and totally out of your senses, Bubbles? I have no way of knowing which direction is the correct one! I am completely ill-suited to getting us both back home safely, securely, and unharmed! I have no superpowers, no way of quickly getting us out of this mess! We have no food, no water, no shelter, no way of knowing where we are, your family is doubtless worried about you, when you do not return as you should they will assume the worst, and the only reason you are _not _returning is because you are being a _stubborn idiot!"_

Bubbles finally looked at Mojo with a slightly surprised expression of her own, bewildering Mojo even more. A smile suddenly lit up her face.

"I knew it. You _do _care!"

Mojo spluttered and stammered for a good minute, too completely taken aback to say anything intelligible.

"I—I do _not _care!" he finally managed to spit out. "I care about _myself _and am trying to appeal to your obviously nonexistent sense of logic to get you to get _me _out of here and back to Townsville! You—you _stupid, naïve, brainless, inane_—"

"Why on earth do you want to get back to Townsville?" Bubbles suddenly asked. "You'll just get thrown in jail again. I thought you hated jail—"

"I—I do not mind my jail time—that is to say—that is not the point!" But Mojo was motioning more and more wildly, and he felt his face twinge with more than just anger—because, much to his mortification, he realized that this last jail term he really _hadn't _minded it. Not when Bubbles was there, at least.

—_CURSES STOP WITH THAT TRAIN OF THOUGHT ALREADY!_

"You're an animal," said Bubbles matter-of-factly above Mojo's continued spluttering. "Don't you have an inner compass or something to help you find your way around?"

"Foolishness! Animal though I may be, I have been living amongst the virus known as the human race for long enough that I have for all intents and purposes _become _one of them in everything but appearance, and thus you cannot possibly expect me to—"

A magpie fluttered down to the ground, and Bubbles abruptly turned away from Mojo and began to chirp the bird.

"_Now _what is this nonsense?" Mojo demanded.

Bubbles sharply turned back to Mojo, her eyes narrowed. _"Shh!" _she ordered, before continuing her conversation with the magpie. The magpie twittered to Bubbles in response, bobbing its head to its left. Bubbles smiled and chirped something in reply. The magpie chirped again, this time gesturing to its right, where Mojo was, along with a high-pitched warble that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Bubbles giggled as well as the magpie flew off.

"I require and am in need of a translation of the preceding dialogue," Mojo grumbled.

"I asked him where the nearest town was. He said there's one not too far straight west of here." She giggled again, her impish smile growing wider. "And then he said you looked like a hairy, overgrown blackberry."

Mojo crossed his arms grumpily, his face growing even redder. "That is not funny."

"Sorry. I should have stood up for you. But it was just so funny, the way he said it…" Bubbles stood up, brushing herself off. "So. Let's head west, shall we?"

"Are you going to carry me?" Mojo asked darkly.

"You can walk, can't you? I'm not flying, you know. I'll walk with you." And much to Mojo's amazement, she did. She began walking, one foot in front of the other, along the forest floor, in her white capris and flip-flops.

Mojo stared, slack jawed.

Bubbles turned around after a few steps, giving Mojo a questioning look. "Well? Are you coming?"

He stared at her for only another four and a half seconds before begrudgingly placing one foot forward.

"Curse you," he said, not knowing what else to say.

…

"I still don't get it. Why do you want to go back?"

Night had fallen, and during that time, Bubbles had used pretty much every single one of her superpowers save the power of flight, despite her previous inward resolve to do noting to help Mojo. When the rumbling of their stomachs grew too strong for either to ignore, Bubbles made her way to a stream, dove in and caught one small fish, then another, then quickly gathered wood from a fallen tree with which to make a fire, zapped them ablaze with her laser eyes, and cooked the fish, politely "um-hmm"-ing at Mojo's incessant complaints that the water and thus the fish living in it was unfiltered, sullied, soiled, and just plain dirty. Eventually, though, hunger got the better of him and he ceased his complaints in favor of nourishment.

It had gotten dark rather quickly, and Bubbles opted to keep the fire burning for awhile, keeping an eye on it and planning to blow it out for when they slept. The night air also became colder, and while Bubbles was shivering a little bit, she could tell that the cold was affecting Mojo far worse. She sat closer to the fire, giving Mojo the silent okay to do so himself, and he did so whether he knew he was being given permission or not.

And she sat closer to him, too, so that both would have the other's body heat.

He wasn't saying much to her, a surprising change, but Bubbles could tell from his occasional sideways glares that he was still angry at her… and still utterly confused why she wouldn't bring him back. Because, yes, Bubbles did in fact realize that it would have made far more sense. Being at home right now, talking and laughing with her father and sisters, snuggling up in the comfort of her own bed…

Mojo harrumphed at her in response to her question.

Bubbles sighed. _I know you don't understand why I won't take you back, but I don't understand why you WANT to go back. But I promise you, I WILL take you back… when you apologize to me. _This, of course, she could not say aloud; she wanted him to apologize to her on his own terms, without knowing of any payoff. She wanted him to apologize because he meant it.

_And I know, somewhere deep inside of you, that you ARE sorry. I know you're good. I just know it. Now I want YOU to know it._

"I do not understand why _you _do _not _want to go back," Mojo finally answered. His voice wasn't as harsh as it had been.

"I _do _want to go back," said Bubbles. "I just don't want to take _you _back, that's all. Now answer my question, for real this time!"

Mojo sighed. "Always questions."

"Because it takes me asking you three or four times before you finally answer me!"

"Well then, I will answer your question with another question. Why is it _you _want to return to Townsville?"

Bubbles looked at him in confusion. "'Cuz it's my home, of course."

"There you go." Mojo looked back into the fire, wrapping his long arms around his body. His face looked drawn-out and tired in the firelight. "Townsville is my home as well, lest you have forgotten."

"But… if it's your home, why do you always want to destroy it?"

"Another question," sighed Mojo.

And then he said nothing. Bubbles had hardly expected him to answer, in fact. How could he answer her when he himself didn't know why?

_Mojo does really know a lot, about science and gadgets and stuff, _thought Bubbles. _He knows HOW to do a lot of stuff… but I don't think he knows a lot of WHYs._

"I'm sorry for punching you so hard," she blurted out.

Mojo glanced at her.

"I'm not sorry for punching you," Bubbles quickly clarified. "Because you were being a villain and destroying Townsville, so of course I had to punch you, that's what I do. But I'm sorry for punching you way out here. I didn't mean to do it that hard."

"If you are so sorry, why don't you rectify your mishap and take me back home?" Mojo grumbled.

"I'd take you to jail," Bubbles said. "Not your home."

Mojo sighed. "Well, jail pretty much _is _my second home, so…"

"If you destroyed Townsville… what would be your home then?"

Mojo didn't answer her at all that time.

Bubbles scooted closer to him, her arm brushing his. A warm tingle went through her spine. The sensation startled her, but it was a very pleasant one, and she smiled as she moved even closer to Mojo. "Well, whether your home's an observatory or a jail or something else, I'd still come and visit you and hear you complain. I think you need someone to complain to."

Much to Bubbles' surprise, Mojo didn't scoot away from her, and in fact gave her a smile—a somewhat condescending one, but still a smile. "You will only come to visit me because I am the only being both smart enough and willing to help you with your homework."

"You're the best for helping me. No one else helps me like you do." Bubbles' cheeks flushed as she felt again the startling sensation of her heart beating faster. Again, though, she didn't fight the sensation, and feeling a sudden surge of forwardness, she wrapped her arms around Mojo's body.

And, nestling her head against his chest, she could hear his heart rate quickening, too.

…

(AN: Factfile for chapter five:

-It's taken me about four years to write five chapters. That's gotta be a record.  
-I'm not exactly happy with this chapter, but I am just glad that I've gotten _something _written that's able to be posted.  
-I'm thinking there will be only one chapter left, and I hope to get it written and posted before the next millennium sometime.  
-I listened to Robert Palmer's "Bad Case of Loving You" constantly while writing this chapter, which really has absolutely no relation to the plot, but it's still an awesome song.  
-Mojo and Bubbles finally cuddled in this chapter HOORAY! They be so cute XD

Again, sorry for ridiculously long waits between chapters, as usual. When I posted this story four years ago, it was all I was thinking of and I was certain I could keep up with it. My muse hates sticking with any one thing for very long, though… as you can tell. ^^; Right now I'm at the point where I just want to finish this thing, and I think I've got at least the beginnings of the idea of how I can wrap this story up. So… I will see you then, and I hope it'll be sooner rather than later! Thanks again to everyone who's stuck with this story. :))


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